She interrupted him. “Did anything unusual happen to you yesterday, Mr. Morgan?”
Colin froze.
She was watching him knowingly. What she saw while regarding him answered her question.
“I was in your offices yesterday, as your secretary told you. I should apologise for what I did but I don’t think there were any unpleasant consequences. It has been vowed down the line of Granny Esmeralda to do whatever needs to be done to –”
“What were you doing in my offices yesterday, Mrs. Byrne?” Colin cut into her rambling.
She fiddled with the straps on her handbag and hedged, “It was for a good cause.” But when he leaned forward menacingly she rushed on, “I put a potion in your coffee.”
She couldn’t have surprised him more if she got up and danced a jig on his desk.
Then he realised what she was saying and the implications and he began to lose his temper.
His tone was low and even when he asked, “What kind of potion?”
“A magical potion to bring forward a past life, in your case the life of Royce Morgan,” she explained.
He stared at her in disbelief.
There was, he knew, no such thing as magic.
She carried on. “For a time, a brief time, Royce, through you, would be in this world again. Using your body to exist in this time, he would be you but he would be you as Royce.”
Colin felt his fury building as he stared at the woman and realisation dawned.
The kiss.
If this bizarre explanation was true then he had, as Royce, been in Sibyl’s small chalet in her back garden most likely kissing who he thought was Beatrice.
And Sibyl had kissed him back.
You weren’t yourself, Sibyl told him.
He wasn’t himself; he was Royce f**king Morgan, kissing Sibyl. Kissing Sibyl in a way that made tears come to her eyes.
Colin felt a searing jealousy tear through him even though he knew it was ridiculous, because it had been him but also, it had not.
Fury he could no longer contain made Colin slowly stand.
Mrs. Byrne watched him, her calm never leaving her and she stood as well.
“I had to do what I did,” she defended herself. “You and Sibyl did not have a very good start and things were not progressing very smoothly.”
His hands were clenched into fists but he held himself in check, though his voice was dangerous.
“Do not ever do that again, particularly, do not give such a…” he could barely make himself say it because he could barely believe it, “potion to Sibyl.”
“Of course not! I wouldn’t dream of it!” she cried, clearly affronted at the very thought.
“But you not only dreamt of it, you did it, to me,” he shot back.
“You’re a bit more difficult than Sibyl. She’s a sweet woman,” Mrs. Byrne replied calmly.
“I know that!”Colin thundered and, surprisingly in the face of his fury, Marian Byrne smiled.
“Well, finally. I thought you thought we were a couple of con artists. Hardly complimentary of myself but certainly not Sibyl…”